Lightness
by marianna
Summary: A continuation to 'Dark Side of the Moon'. You'll have to read that to know what's going on in this. Very LoganVeronica centric with a bit of Keith thrown in. Set 10 years in the future.


She'll never forget the first time she saw his battle scars. He'd hidden them well over the years, wearing long sleeves to not attract attention, turtlenecks when the bruising was really bad. He was cautious, he took care, he was always looking over his shoulder, his brown eyes pleading for the world to take notice and leave him alone all at once. She was surprised that he was stripping willingly. The four of them went swimming together often, but he'd never been so eager, so ready to jump into the coolness of the lake. It could've been because of the smoldering heat, but she'd like to think it was because he'd known she was looking and finally wanted someone to notice.

"We do loads of things-_crazy_ things, Veronica, but he always wants the light off. I don't _mind_, of course, but it's kind of weird, don't you think? Especially since he has like, _nothing_ to be ashamed of." Lilly had told her once, laughing away his insecurities as if they were nothing. As if she didn't really know the cause of his secrecy. Sometimes, Veronica truly thought she didn't.

The first time they'd slept together, she'd splayed her fingers against his back, tracing the old scars and wishing she could wipe them away, make his back as clean of a slate as his life was, now that his father was dead.

"I don't want your pity, Veronica." He'd muttered, cringing as she'd kissed each scar, paying tender attention to deep ones, her lashes casting half moons on her cheeks in the lamplight.

"And you don't have it, Logan." She's responded, her eyes fiery and bright. Never stopping, never stilling until she'd covered each inch of his marred skin. He'd never said a word, but it was really her that had cured him.

Now she stands awkwardly, almost a stranger in her home, her ring-laden fingers twisting painfully in the moonlight.

"Veronica, if you don't have room here, I can stay at the Radisson. Old Tony owns it now, and he owes me for not throwing him in jail the last time." Her father's words bust through her reverie, but even as she looks at him, shakes her head and smiles fondly, telling him that she couldn't possibly let him leave, the scars of Logan's history can't seem to leave her mind.

"Excuse me for a second, will you Dad?" She asks faintly, halfway to the balcony door, her fingers already dragging her cell phone out, her mind obviously on other things. He nods, and she smiles at him gratefully, rushing out of the room without another word. He glances around, wanting to believe that this place and this _person_ will be enough to make her happy-but as much as he likes Toff; he has a feeling that it isn't the case. He's always wanted what was best for her, but now that she has it, has everything he could of possibly hoped for, he isn't so sure if it's what's right.

"Mr. Mars," Toff's voice filters out of the kitchen before his body does, but he follows right after, his eyes scanning the apartment, a good natured smile gracing his lips. "V gone again?" He asks, smiling fondly at just the mention of her name. He wipes his hands on the apron gracing his hips, and Keith can't help but notice how very dignified he looks, even now, with a paint spattered bandana on his head, and the words 'Kiss the Cook' emblazoned on his chest. "She's always getting these crazy phone calls, even in the middle of the night," Toff has continued, now wiping his hands with a rag he'd pulled from the pocket. "The PI business must be a crazy racket." He smiles as he says the words, and for the hundredth time since he'd walked in the door, Keith wishes his daughter could love this man. As she slips back in, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling, he knows she doesn't. She _can't_, because this look on her face is a standard byproduct of Logan Echolls. And he's the only one she's ever really loved.

"I've got to-" She's breathing fast, the color high in her cheeks, and both men can't help but notice how beautiful she looks in this moment. "Go. I've got to go. There's a-" She smiles again, and it adds a life to her face he hasn't seen in years. "There's a client that needs to see me right away." She glances at the two of them, her eyes apologetic and wide, and she looks so sincere that Keith wonders if there really is a client. For Toff's sake, he hopes so. "Is that Okay, that I go and take care of this? I won't be more than a couple hours, _tops_." Toff shrugs, his smile in place, already ushering her towards the door.

"Of course it is, baby. I know how important work is to you." He bends to kiss her, and though Keith turns away, he can't help noticing the stiffness in her posture. No, definitely _not_ a client.

"You should fill me in later, honey." She glances over to him, panic widening her blue eyes. She blinks it back.

"What, Daddy?" She asks him, her voice softening over the pet name that generally only slips out in desperation. He wants to tell her that he doesn't approve of what she's doing, that Toff seems to be a good man, and that she could have a good life if she wanted it. But her eyes are pleading with him, and he can swear he can see her heart in them.

"We'll be fine, honey. Go do what you have to." He lets it drop, and he doesn't think he's ever seen her look more grateful.

"I won't be more than two hours." She calls; already out into the hallway, already slipping the phone of her pocket. Before she can even dial, it's ringing; flashing the number she's known since adolescence. Although she doesn't want to feel this way, her very spine tingles in apprehension as she answers, her breath catching the moment that she hears his voice.

"Where are you, Mars? We got off the phone 10 minutes ago." His voice is cold, but urgent, and sends heat roiling through her. He isn't the only man she's ever been with, and as she hurries down the stairs she wonders why it's only ever like _this_ with him.

"I had to carefully extract myself from an apartment holding my father and-" His voice cuts her off. He doesn't want to hear about Toff, and his jealousy sends a thrill through her.

"Why didn't you say you had to take a case? It's always been your excuse before. And with the hours you keep it wouldn't be surprising." She sighs as she walks out into the cool May evening, her breath puffing in circles around her. He's nowhere to be seen, but she isn't surprised. He'd never show himself near the apartment.

"I think my father knows something." She whispers, turning so she can go down a darker street, away from the bustle of the Boston nightlife.

"Veronica, this morning I sent him cross-country to deliver a letter that proclaimed by everlasting adoration of your _ass_. He'd have to be a blind monk not to know something."

"Don't be crass. You know you didn't write that." She breathes, but she can't help but liking it, feeling his words tumble over her skin.

"Where are you?" His tone is clipped, as if he's on the verge of something, and she can't help grinning at the thought that she brought him to that.

"Just turned down Temple Street. I should be at the Rochester in a second." He nods, and stepping out of the shadows at the bottom of the street, takes her in long before she notices his presence, continuing to whisper incoherent nothings into the phone. "Logan!" She yells, when she finally sees him, running down the rest of the road, jumping on to him, her arms tangling themselves around his neck. He clicks off his cell phone as his lips touch hers, and with that, she forgets her name. His lips are fevered and hot, and she wishes it could be like this forever. "Why didn't you tell me you were in Boston, you bastard?" She asks when they finally break apart, her eyes large as they stare up into his.

"Surprise?" He deadpans, reluctant to let her go. She's beautiful as always, but there's something about her tonight that he just can't place. An extra sort of radiance that he'd like to think is caused by him.

"Was this part of your dastardly plan?" She asks, leaning up and pressing the softest of kisses to his lips. "Because I-" _I'm still getting married, getting away from our past, _finally_ moving on._ "I really _hated_ you this morning. I can't believe you'd come out here on the assumption that I'd just jump into bed with you after the stunt you pulled. Plus I know you're filthy rich, but wouldn't it have been a waste of airfare?"

"Veronica," He kisses the tip of her nose, squeezing his arm around her shoulders, and she wants to melt into him.

"Mmmhmm?" She responds gazing up at him with languid eyes, her head against his shoulder as they walk.

"I own the airline." Her lips part, making a small 'O' even as she's giggling, and huddling her head against his chest.

"That works too." She responds a moment later, after she's caught her breath. His lips taste like coffee and warmth and Logan, and she can't help but want to kiss them forever. It's a silly idea, stemmed off from this secret affair of theirs, but she can't help the way she feels. She considers telling him, but has a feeling he already knows, and her heart breaks a little at that.

"We're here." He whispers against her hair, his arms tightening around her, as they stop in front of a rather regular looking brownstone. Despite it's rather casual external appearance, she knows the inside of the Rochester houses riches.

"Mr. and Mrs. Lester," The concierge greets them warmly as they step into the foyer, standing to shake their hands. "It's a pleasure to see you again." She smiles fondly at him, remembering his name as Harry, and asks after the grandchildren he'd mentioned the last time. Watching her, Logan almost feels as though his soul is lightening. As if the goodness of her spirit is breaking through his blackened exterior. This is why he needs her, he realizes, loving the casual way which her fingers are splayed over his arm, while her other hand is holding his. He loves that their bodies fit so well together, that they are comfortably compatible. "No bags this evening?" He hears Harry ask, and Veronica blushes to the roots of her hair when he answers.

"'Ronica and I are practicing the art of sneaking, Harry. You can't take bags for that." The older man smiles as he hands them the key card to their usual room, and Logan walks with his arm wrapped around her shoulders, even though she's trying her hardest to break free.

"You make it sound so tawdry." She mutters once they're in the room, and she's undressing.

"It _is_ tawdry." He responds, trying with all his might to hold back a chuckle. She's gorgeous as she pads into the middle of the room, in only her bra and panties, sampling one of the chocolate covered strawberries he'd thought ahead to order. She sighs as she settles on the bed, her eyes locking onto his. "It doesn't have to be, though." He murmurs as he nears her, unhooking his belt and dropping his pants as he gets closer to her. "We could do this every night, in our very own house." He says the words against her lips, his fingers gripping her shoulders. She melts into him, her hands roaming everywhere on his body, committing it to memory. They both know that if she gets married on Saturday, this will be the last time. She doesn't want to think of that as he presses himself against her, shocked at how ready she is with such a minimal amount of foreplay.

He lets her sleep. She looks like an angel as she does so, her curtain of hair spread out across the pillow, and he wonders if it's possible to love her more. Even though he doubts it, he does, has fallen in love with her all over again.

"What time is it?" She mumbles, yawning as she opens her eyes and glances into his, kissing his lips lightly, as if she's gotten used to waking up with him next to her. He doesn't think he'll _ever_ get used to it.

"11:52." He responds, wrapping his arms around her, as she burrows her head into his shirtless chest.

"Oh god," She mutters, hating that in a few more minutes she'll have to leave this warm cocoon they've created and go back into the real world. She's never wanted to leave less.

"I know. You gave yourself a two-hour maximum, right Mars? How many times have I told you that truly great sex last more than two hours?" She laughs, and her breath brushes over his chest. She's delighted at the sight of the goose pimples, which explode there.

"And how many times have I told you that I don't need truly great sex?" She's murmuring as she climbs on top of him, settling as she presses her lips against his. "Just this'll do." She laughs as he pins her to the mattress, drowning her gasps in his mouth.

She's 3 hours late getting home.

"Veronica?" Toff mumbles sleepily as she slips into bed beside him, trying her hardest not to disturb the sheets. "What time is it?" She thinks about lying, but she's already done that enough for the day.

"2:30. My…meeting ran a little late." She finishes, but he's already back asleep, his shoulders rising and falling in sleep. She closes her eyes, trying to think of anything about Logan. Logan who had asked her to marry him again as she'd left the hotel room. Logan, who she loved more than anyone else in the entire world-Logan, who is just as screwed up as her. "Toff?" She whispers quietly, aware of every spring in the mattress, ever noise in the apartment.

"Mmmhmm?" He replies, his body shifting to face her, but his eyes still closed, clinging to sleep.

"I don't think I can marry you."


End file.
